Reflections
by snowin' you
Summary: Destiel established relationship. Set some years after S8. Castiel wanted a camera for Christmas and Dean wanted to see Castiel's wings. What he got to see, however, were reflections of their lives together – past, present and beyond.


**Title:** Reflections  
**Author:** snowin' you  
**Beta:** VoicesInTheWind  
**Rating:** M  
**Pairing:** Dean/Castiel  
**Genre:** Hurt/Comfort, Fluff  
**Spoilers:** Up to 8x07 – Nothing major, safe to read even if you haven't watched the episode, but you'll get a better hang of it if you did.  
**Warnings:** wing!kink, mild graphic m/m sex  
**Word Count:** 4,745  
**Summary:** Destiel established relationship. Set some years after S8. Castiel wanted a camera for Christmas and Dean wanted to see Castiel's wings. What he got to see, however, were reflections of their lives together – past, present and beyond.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, or the beautiful angel, or his hunter.  
**A/N:** Originally written for 2012 Dean/Cas Secret Santa Exchange.

~:~:~

It started when Cas asked Dean what he wanted for Christmas.

No, it actually started when Dean asked Cas _first_ what he wanted for Christmas, to which Cas replied with that famous head tilt that came with a deep knot between his eyebrows. It was the same head tilt that followed, "Good things do happen, Dean," when they first met, and Dean didn't believe a single word of it, and Cas didn't understand why.

"Why do you ask, Dean? Aren't presents about surprises?"

Between then and now, Cas had learned so much about human beings. He no longer asked silly (read: adorable) questions. Sometimes, just sometimes, Dean missed that nerdy angel who could make him laugh at every little thing, like when you watched a small child trying to learn the way of the world. Now the child had grown so much.

Not that Dean would love him any less.

Dean cleared his throat. "You know I hate surprises," he tried to reply casually, but that head tilt and frown and gaze never failed to make him nervous. Cas may have had to read his mind when they first met, but by now Dean knew that was hardly necessary. Every minutest movement in Dean's body, every breath he took – or didn't take, for that matter – was an open book for Cas.

"Okay," Cas said with a slight nod of his head. "I want a camera."

At that, Dean was taken aback. "That's it? You want a camera? You don't even need to think about it?" he asked in confusion.

Cas nodded, this time firmly, with a warm smile. "Yes, Dean. I want a camera."

Dean blinked. That was fast. He was going to ask what kind of camera Cas wanted, a video camera, or a digital camera, or an SLR— when Cas asked him with a crafty smile, "What do you want for Christmas, Dean?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably. What was more nerve-wracking than a clueless angel was a knowing angel. He feigned a few dry coughs. "I want—" Dean began, but his windpipe seemed to collapse on him, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging in the air.

'Man up, Winchester. Just say it!' Dean mentally scolded himself. 'It's not like you're asking him to visit a sex shop or something.'

Cas gaped, a look of pure horror obvious on his face. "I'm not buying a sex toy for you, Dean!"

Yes, sometimes Cas' omniscience was that creepy.

"No, Cas!" Dean wailed. He at least had the decency to blush. "I wasn't—how could you—whatever!" Dean threw his hands in the air, defeated. "I just want to see your wings. That's all."

Shit, he didn't just blurt that out.

From the very first time Dean met Castiel at that barn, he never saw Cas' wings again. There must be a reason behind that. It could be like asking him to go naked in public for all Dean knew – or it could be worse.

Cas seemed to take his time coming up with an answer, leaving Dean fidgeting nervously. It could be a yes. It could be a no. It could be simply—

"Why?" Cas asked.

"You know," Dean began with a squirm, "I only saw them once, when I first met you, when I didn't even know who you are, _what_ you are, when I didn't believe, when all I thought was you were a dick and only bluffing, and I only remember it vaguely and it wasn't very pleasant, and—"

Dean was cut off with a quick kiss on his lips. Only Cas could make Dean ramble incoherently, and only Cas could silence him.

"Okay, Dean," Cas said, smiling widely in front of him. "There needs to be some preparation, though."

~:~:~

So that was how Dean had to cancel his reservation at the Hard Rock Hotel on Christmas Eve (damn he'd love to spend a night there with Cas) and find a cabin in the middle of nowhere. He also had to make sure the cabin's bedroom was spacious enough, as Cas might need as much space as he could get, and that the cabin had as few windows as possible so he wouldn't have to pay too much for repairs.

Dean was quite elated that, after forty-eight attempts, he could get this two-story cabin in Iowa. There were no other houses in a five-mile radius. The master bedroom covered more than half of the second floor, bonus points for having a plain, white wall on one side. The cabin was made from strong logs and concrete that should hold, though he doubted the few windows they had would, even though they were made from safety glass.

Even though Cas said he would not break them, Dean still got rid of all the light bulbs and lit the house with scented candles that sent a faint but pleasant, if not erotic, fragrance all over. He secured the candles with holders because lighting the house on fire would undoubtedly be much worse than broken windows.

As per Cas' instructions, Dean had the white wall of the master bedroom drilled with large mirrors that covered the whole wall from left to right; the bottom of the mirror was barely above the bed and the top almost touched the ceiling. Dean couldn't find one piece of mirror that large, though, so he had to tile up six large mirrors on the wall. He couldn't see why Cas asked for this. Cas was never an exhibitionist. Whenever they spent a night in a motel room that had a mirror, be it on a wall or a ceiling, Cas would flush furiously and refuse to face the mirror, so Dean always had the full view of Cas' ass – from every angle.

He would be lying if he said his skin was not tickling dangerously at the thought of it, though. If anything, he'd enjoy a hell of a good time tonight.

Cas was sitting on his heels in the middle of the white king-size bed. Dean had made him leave the trench coat and jacket on the coat stand downstairs, so now Castiel was only clad in a light green plaid shirt and a red Christmas tie (gifts from Sam, knowing his brother would go crazy seeing Cas in them), sleeves folded up to his elbows. The room was warmly lit in glowing candlelight.

"I still don't understand why you want to see them," Castiel said as Dean moved on his knees from the bedside to sit down facing him. "They are used to manifest power and I have no desire to intimidate you, Dean."

So that was why Dean never got to see them. "Well, for one thing," Dean said, smiling, pulling Cas up closer and wrapping his arms around his waist, "I'm not intimidated by you." He pressed their forehead together. "Not anymore."

Cas smiled at that. There were times – _the rebellious times_, Dean called them – when Cas had to use his angelic powers to earn himself some respect from the knucklehead Dean. Now there wasn't even the tiniest fragment of Dean's heart that believed the angel would do him any harm.

"We'll see," Cas said with a quick peck on Dean's lips and a warm smile that never left his face. "You still need to shut your eyes, though."

Dean nodded willingly. He moved to sit leaning against the headboard and the mirror above it, and closed his eyes. He heard the crumpling of clothes (probably Cas taking his shirt off—so much for Sam's money). Dean's thoughts were cut off by the sudden howling of winds in the room and the crash of thunder outside. He heard things in the room start to shake. There was a blaze of light behind his eyes for a brief moment and then it went completely dark as all the candles seemed to get blown out. When the winds died down and the shaking stopped and light started to come in again, he heard, louder than ever, the fluttering of wings.

"You may open your eyes now," Castiel said. His voice carried that sense of authority Dean hadn't heard for so long.

Dean slowly opened his eyes. Cas was standing in the middle of the bed, his torso bare, his jeans slung low on his hipbones. He looked stunning, as usual, but that was all – no wings, no nothing.

"Cas?" Dean started to ask when Cas reached out an arm to him. Dean took the hand and Cas pulled him up. Once Dean was standing in front of him, Cas gave a fond smile, and turned Dean around.

There in the mirror (that had somehow liquefied into one large screen), Dean was standing with Cas behind him. White, large wings spanned dazzlingly from his bare back, their remarkable size almost filling the room. The air seemed to glimmer with specks of golden dust around them. Dean was drawn like a magnet toward the mirror, wanting to see more, to feel, to touch, but Cas pulled him back, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and nuzzling the crook of his neck shyly.

"I'm here, Dean," Cas mumbled into Dean's shoulder.

Dean held on to the arms that wrapped around him and looked through the mirror at the man behind him. He looked like Cas alright, but the rest of the scene seemed otherworldly, like he had slipped into Narnia where everything looked familiar, yet different.

"Cas, this is—" Dean finally found his voice, but soon lost it again. Seriously, what word in any human language would cut it? What language could be enough to describe the magnificence, the beauty, of what he now witnessed?

The wings waved at him idly. Dean watched, mouth agape, as the gleaming feathers shivered, giving out the faintest jingling sound, unheard by the absent-minded. Then the two wings fanned up and drooped down, wrapping themselves around Dean.

"Cas!" Dean screamed, shaking excitedly. Cas looked at him in the mirror with a knowing smile. "I can feel it!"

Looking down, Dean saw nothing, but he could certainly feel it on his bare arms. The warmth and the softness of Cas' wings, so soft Dean was sure he had never felt anything this fluffy his entire life.

Dean leaned back into Cas' chest and placed a quick kiss on the angel's cheek. He couldn't take his eyes off the splendor that was covering him like a protective cocoon. Looking in the mirror, he cautiously placed his right hand above the wing that rested on his left arm and gently stroked the fluffy feathers. The wing seemed to quiver under his fingertips.

"Can we move closer?" Dean asked in a low voice.

Cas untangled his wings and their arms and moved around Dean so his back was to the mirror. He expanded his wings again and moved as close to the mirror as possible without the wings touching it. From this angle, Dean could see Castiel standing with his legs slightly apart, his thumbs tucked in the pockets of his jeans timidly – and two great wings arcing gracefully by his sides.

Dean clicked his tongue, appreciating the view: an angel in denim, and a very sexy one at that. Dean wished he could capture the moment and show the world how hot his boyfriend was, how he would make all the Levi's models weep.

"When I asked to see your wings," Dean began, his voice hoarse, "I thought you'd only show me the shadows of them. I didn't expect any of this."

In front of him, Cas was only a man, but in the mirror, Cas was an angel, a real one, _literally_. It gave Dean chills thinking how most of the time he only took his boyfriend for granted, how most of the time he was so contented with the two of them being together that never for one moment did he remember Cas was actually a supernatural being. The power, the glory, the nobility he possessed – Dean was but an ant in comparison.

"I know, but I want you to see it, Dean," Cas replied with a warm smile, "the real me, even if it's a downsized version."

Dean moved closer. In the mirror, he could see clearly the layers of feathers in gradual sizes neatly lined up against each other. Each one seemed to be intricately engraved with different patterns that reminded Dean of snowflakes: pure, beautiful, delicate, unique – just like Castiel.

To think an exalted angel would fall for him, a mere _mud-monkey_, so filthy, worthless, and selfish. He never realized until now how much Cas had sacrificed for him, how much he had asked of someone he claimed to love more than his life.

"Dean," Cas called, cupping Dean's cheeks with both hands, getting his attention. He must have sensed Dean's troubling thoughts in his tense muscles. "I love you. Nothing can ever change that. Not this glory or the lack of it. Everything I have, Dean, whether in this world or beyond, is all yours and yours alone."

"I—" Dean's throat closed on him again. He wanted to say something, but nothing would be fitting, just like how he and Cas were unfitting. He wouldn't be surprised if Cas wanted to leave him – to pull away – again.

"We all make mistakes, Dean, things we regret doing or not doing," Cas continued calmly, "but what's past is past and we can't let it overthrow what we have now. I have loved you even before I laid eyes on you; I'll love you even after my time is long gone."

Dean kissed him, the only way he knew how to express his love when words wouldn't suffice. He remembered their first kiss, the first time he admitted his feelings for the angel. It was awkward, to say the least. Cas had stared vacantly behind Dean's back as their lips pressed together. Dean had to tell him to close his eyes and slid his tongue in. Later, Cas told him he felt little stings all over his lips and inside his mouth and for a moment Cas had no idea what to do with his own tongue and wished it away. Now that their lips and tongues knew each other so well, swirling together like a graceful arabesque design, the memories seemed foolish, yet strangely fond.

Cas broke the kiss. He lifted Dean's T-shirt over his head and threw it away. "Now if you'd stop being such a drama queen," Cas said teasingly, grabbing the hem of Dean's jeans and pulling him in tighter, fingers going straight to work on the buttons, "I'll see if I can get you to one or two orgasms tonight." He had that mischievous look in his eyes. "Or maybe four."

Dean threw his head back, laughing. He playfully shoved the angel on the shoulder. "Who are you and where's the nerd angel?"

Castiel smiled, planting small kisses along Dean's chest as he slowly made his way down. "Oh, I can play nerdy alright," he said over the skin of Dean's toned stomach, "but I don't think now's the time."

Dean moaned, closing his eyes as he felt the familiar warmth wrapped around his cock. Catching his breath, he opened his eyes to see, in the mirror, a celestial creature on his knees in front of him, working him up. Great white wings spread wide, shaking ever so slightly, shimmering in golden candlelight, as the angel bobbed his head up and down his length.

This was fifty shades of wrong.

Dean looked down to see the mess of dark tousled hair and the slender form he had so grown to love. Castiel's hands gripped his hips strongly to keep him in place. The movement of Cas' lips and tongue, how they made Dean's stomach tighten, could only come from someone who had spent the majority of his time getting intimate with him, who knew him inside and out, including his deepest, darkest secrets.

Yet the scene in the mirror seemed surreal. He had no idea where they were or who that was.

With trembling hand, Dean reached out and touched the top of the wing. He glided his hand along the bone, feeling its softness and solidity, and tugged at it. Castiel groaned pleasurably in his throat, sending vibrations up his groin.

That was Cas, and Cas was real.

Dean grabbed the wing with all his might as waves of euphoria hit him. Cas slowly guided him down and held him in his arms as Dean leaned against him on his knees, feeling limp and spent. Castiel lovingly placed a kiss in the crook of Dean's neck.

"Did I hurt you?" Dean asked after he gathered back the strength to form a voice.

Cas shook his head lightly. "Nothing I can't manage." Then he nudged Dean. "Look."

Dean looked up in the mirror to see tides of grace breezily flowing along the wings from base to tip, feathers quivering as it ran through them, creating that sweet, tinkling chime. The bone that Dean seemed to deform with his grip earlier was straightened back to its perfect shape. Dean gaped in amazement at the show unfolding before his eyes. True, he had witnessed a lot of supernatural encounters, enough for thirty lifetimes, but this was not anything he would come across in this life or the next, neither in this world nor the world below. It was way beyond his league. How he had dragged Cas down with him was nothing short of desecration.

Dean flinched as the mirror before him suddenly flicked black. All he could see was a dim reflection of Cas' bare, wingless back and his own face, eyes wide in shock.

"Look at me, Dean," Cas said sternly. Dean blinked, turning to stare blankly at Cas' face. His thoughts were lost in those deep blue eyes he had come to know with all of their different shades. To think that was not Cas' eyes, to think that was just his _vessel_, a term Dean had forgotten for so long.

"Those are just the mysteries of the world unknown to you, Dean. Do not fear it," Cas began solemnly. "I'm showing them to you because I want you to know how thankful I am to you. You have taught me the mysteries of your world. Dean, before I met you," Cas paused with a grimace, "I was just a robotic soldier, a hammer, you once said." A small smile crept up on Cas' face as he recalled the memory. "But you taught me the meaning of love, and trust, and sacrifice. You taught me how to be happy and follow my own heart."

Another flicker and the scene returned in the mirror. Cas' wings were now pulled in behind his back, making him look somewhat small, timid and fragile. Dean reached out and gently stroked the back of one wing with the back of his hand. The wing shivered and Cas hid his face in the crook of Dean's neck.

No, it was Cas who taught him the mysteries of this world, and now beyond. When he was so afraid to open up his own heart he shielded it under dead lock and keys, it was Cas who had taught Dean to be brave, to love, to fight, to follow his own heart.

"I need you, Cas," Dean whispered into his ear, still tenderly brushing the soft feathers with his fingers, "all of you."

The wings flapped eagerly in response as Cas pulled back with a wide smile. So, this was his angel in his happy state, Dean thought, pulling Cas in for a kiss that soon needed to break as both of them struggled to get their pants out of the way. Dean yelped as he felt invisible wings tucked under his arms, lifting him up slightly in the air and lowering him down until Dean sat back, straddling the angel's lap. Castiel smiled playfully at him as Dean placed his arms on the angel's shoulders and kissed him. Dean ruffled his hands through the fluffy feathers behind Cas' back, hissing into the kiss as he felt one slick finger enter him. Something light brushed soothingly at the small of his back and Dean peeked in the mirror to see one of the wings curled around his body, the tip of it gently caressing his back.

Dean smirked at one of the perks of having an angel for a boyfriend.

His legs parted wider as one finger became two and three and Dean was writhing pathetically on his knees, trying not to grasp the nearest feathers too harshly for fear of breaking them.

"Cas, please," Dean begged with a trembling voice. Tiny beads of sweat broke out all over; matted feathers stuck helplessly to his back.

Cas removed his fingers and pulled his wing back. He shifted into a more comfortable position, sitting back on his heels, the wings softly rattling behind him. Dean lined himself over Cas' stiff erection and slowly sank down onto it. Sometimes, just sometimes, Cas would use his angel mojo to ease whatever stood in the way of them making love, and Dean never made a fuss about it.

They both grunted at the tightness as Cas filled him up balls-deep. The angel rubbed his hands soothingly up and down Dean's tensed thighs until Dean could catch his breath and relax into the touch. Little tinkling noises called for his attention and Dean looked into the mirror to see Cas' wings beating eagerly behind him.

"Alright, angel," Dean responded with a lopsided smile. "Show me what you got."

The wings unfurled excitedly and encircled Dean. Cas' hands gripped Dean's thighs as he gingerly lifted their hips up, on his knees, leaning over, pushing Dean back until Dean fell out of balance, making him yelp. He landed on something soft, though, and Dean craned his neck to see he was stopped mid-air.

"Not cool, man," Dean said nervously to Cas, who was now towering above him, two arms resting on the bed beside Dean to support himself. Dean's heart beat erratically as his arms locked behind Cas' neck and his legs behind Cas' waist and he held on for dear life.

"Relax, Dean, I got you." Cas leaned down to kiss his fears away, at the same time carefully turning a little so Dean could see in the mirror that he was, in fact, cradled by white shiny wings. It didn't look as eerie as it felt and Dean relaxed into the embrace.

Cas leaned down to kiss him again and Dean closed his eyes, feeling the strong wing bones and silky feathers that supported him from behind. Then Cas started to move. Dean groaned, knowing the position had gained them access to areas never before possible. He dug his heals into the small of Cas' back, arching his body for more access as Cas pounded into him with heavenly forces. Dean could hear breathy moans of their names, the sound of Cas' sweaty skin on his and the rustling sound of the shaking feathers. The wings snuggled him tighter and Dean could feel the tip of one wing creep up around his waist. The lightest touch on his erection and Dean came in satisfying surges.

Cas carefully placed Dean on the mattress. It took Dean a few moments to realize that Cas was shaking uncontrollably, a tremor Dean never saw before in him.

"Cas, you alright?" Dean asked in a panic.

"No, Dean," Cas replied. Dean could tell by his voice that he was terrified. "Something is happening. My form is reacting to you. I can't control it."

Cas hunched his shoulders. The wings now soared high into the air. Dean concernedly placed a hand on Cas' shaking arm.

"Shut your eyes—"

~:~:~

That night was unforgettable. It was the night he got to see, to touch, to feel something that was _really_ Cas'. He wanted to sear the memory into his brain like how Cas had inscribed his ribs. But he knew all too well that soon the surroundings would fade away. Those were always the things that went first. How many different beds had they shared together? The diversity yet similarity made it difficult for Dean to distinguish all of them.

"Cas," Dean said while Cas' finger made soothing small circles on his back. Dean was resting his head on Cas' chest. He knew how the angel loved to feel his inhale and exhale of breath on his skin, how he loved to feel the heave of his chest against his ribs, all those vital signs that told him he was alive. "When this is all done, hunting and everything, we should settle down somewhere." Dean's heart ached as he said those words he knew would never come true. "Get a place that will store the memories of our lives together."

"Sure," Cas said, kissing the top of his head. He, too, knew that would never be possible. "Or we can store our memories some other way."

Dean jerked his head up. "Like what?"

"Like with the camera you got me?" Cas said, eyes glancing sideways and an eyebrow lifting cunningly.

"Oh, you rat!" Dean hit Cas' chest light-heartedly and sat up, straddling his waist. "I told you to get a present for yourself, not for me."

"It was a present for me, honestly." Cas smiled, fingers toying with Dean's.

"How is it a present for you?" Dean asked, earnestly confused. "I know you never lose even a fraction of your memories."

"True," Cas replied, bringing Dean's hands up to kiss at the knuckles. "But my memories are _my_ memories, Dean. I want to collect _our_ memories together."

Dean's mouth formed a silent 'ah'. He squinted his eyes at the man below him. "You mean like taking couple photos and stuff?"

Cas ducked his head and blushed furiously.

Dean grinned from ear to ear, moving his face closer for a tease. "Can we take one now?"

"No, you pervert!" Cas reproached, pinching the bridge of Dean's nose. "We're going to take couple photos like normal couples do."

Dean pouted, hanging his head low. His forefinger drew shapeless lines on Cas' chest as he murmured, "But I will not be able to see your wings again after tonight."

"I'm sorry, Dean." Cas' voice suddenly sounded saddened. "I could have hurt you. I'd never forgive myself if that happened."

Dean continued to stare at his finger tracing along the lines of Cas' muscles to avoid looking at his eyes. Cas was right. It could have hurt – not him, but Cas. They were not ready for this, the collision of mortal and eternal beings. Perhaps they would be when their paths crossed in the same dimension.

"Will I remember you if I get to heaven?" Dean asked, but the question was not directed at anyone.

Castiel cupped his cheeks, forcing Dean to look him in the eyes. "You _will_ get to heaven, Dean, and you _will_ remember me."

Dean was started by the bold confidence. "How are you so sure?"

Cas' features softened as he replied, "Because I will make sure you remember me."

He pulled Dean down for a sweet, tender kiss. If Dean had learned to confess his love by way of a kiss, so did Castiel. And this one told Dean that neither life nor death, neither this world nor beyond, could deprive him of his love.

Dean snuggled back on Castiel's chest, arms hugging him tighter. He closed his eyes, comfortable, feeling safe under the angel's wings. Outside, snow was falling, but Cas' grace kept the room warm – or was it simply his embrace?

"Tomorrow, we'll take a photo together, with the house," Dean mumbled as his breath slowly evened out, "and Sam."

"You like this place, don't you?" Cas asked softly, fingers curling soothingly into Dean's hair, lulling him to a peaceful sleep.

"Yes, the house is gorgeous," Dean said dreamily, drifting off, "and it comes with safety glass windows."

It wasn't until three weeks later that Dean discovered that the first photo he took with Cas was not the one of them in front of the isolated, awesome cabin in Iowa, but instead a photo of him sound asleep on Cas' chest, white, shiny feathers cast over his back and arm, revealing one naked shoulder. With a sly smile, Cas looked up to the camera, nuzzling happily into Dean's hair.

~:~:~


End file.
